


you are purest space

by redledgers



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Oral Sex, Period Sex, Sexual Content, Sirens
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-15
Updated: 2020-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:48:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23159572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redledgers/pseuds/redledgers
Summary: She remembers that sharks can smell blood from almost a quarter mile away.
Relationships: Chloe Decker/Lucifer Morningstar
Comments: 14
Kudos: 119





	you are purest space

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Brokenjaw (Vrael)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vrael/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Aquatic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19826383) by [Brokenjaw (Vrael)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vrael/pseuds/Brokenjaw). 



> This is for my beloved [BrokenJaw](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vrael), and I HIGHLY RECOMMEND you read [Aquatic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19826383) first, since this fic is set in that universe, where Lucifer is a shark-y siren and well, you know the rest.  
> Title from "Song of the Sea" by Rainer Maria Rilke

Chloe stopped wondering how her life got this weird after the second week of takeout nights with Lucifer. They’ve had Italian near the jellyfish, tacos by the seals, but more often than not, expensive and decadent sushi in his own quarters. It’s a new routine, but she’s all too happy to make it work. Tonight, she’s enjoying the five star delivery while curled in the corner of his sofa and ignoring the quiet music he’d put on just before she arrived.

“Oh, Detective, did you change your perfume?” Lucifer leers in her direction, his tail flicking idly at the puddle of water near the couch. He pinches a piece of sashimi between his claws and the way he eats it is borderline pornographic. 

Chloe eyes him over her plate as he licks his fingers. “No,” she says. She hasn’t changed her perfume in years. Comfort and routine and all.

“You smell _delicious,_ ” he purrs, leaning closer. He has to put his own plate down to almost slither into her space, nosing her jaw, the crook of her neck, and moving all the way down to inhale between her legs. The rumbling groan that follows tells her he found exactly what he was searching for. “ _Please_ let me eat you out as part of dinner.”

“Lucifer…” Chloe nudges his head aside. She remembers, because how could she not, that sharks can smell blood from almost a quarter mile away. Which means that Lucifer could smell her and her period for hours now, and he’s only now lost his composure enough to ask about it. “What’s in it for me?” she manages to say when he looks at her with darkened eyes and an almost puppy dog look on his face.

He looks almost hurt by her question, but beneath it, Chloe can see the mischief. “Have you forgotten what a delight my tongue is?”

She sets aside her food carefully. “You may have to remind me.” She’s not forgotten what a delight _any_ of him has been since they started sleeping together. Or whatever it was they were doing, if there was a word for fucking a siren who was also terrifyingly something _else._

“Oh, with pleasure.” The timbre of his voice sends a shiver down her spine, one that blossoms into warmth and spreads through her veins. He hooks his claws over her waistband and tugs her jeans down, stopping only when they’re around her ankles and he can press his face against her sensible period underwear. “Absolutely _divine,_ ” he says.

And then her panties are torn aside and she lets him have his way with her body. He’s quick to part her thighs, remove her tampon, and situate her better on the couch so he can bury his tongue inside of her with a delighted moan that dances on the line of feral and predatory. Like she is something to be feasted upon. His tongue is rough, but pleasantly so, a cat’s tongue against her nerves. Chloe is plenty horny on her period, but this, well, she’s never been eaten out like this, even by the siren himself. 

He’s rutting against the edge of the couch cushion as he licks and sucks, his teeth skating across her most sensitive areas as she slowly unravels. “Oh fuck,” she breathes, wishing he had removed her pants completely before diving in. She wants nothing more than to wrap her legs around his face, dig her heels into his back, and buck into him. But instead she’s just along for the ride, feeling him pull her deeper and deeper into a riptide she’s not sure she wants to break free from. 

“You taste so good,” he says into her cunt, and it’s that and the stripe he licks up her folds that causes her to go under completely, loud enough that if the aquarium was open, she’s sure someone in the lobby would be able to hear her. But still he keeps going, determined to drag her further under to satiate whatever bloodlust is inherent to his form. It’s overwhelming, it’s _wonderful,_ and she’s gasping for breath like she’s drowning.

“Lucifer,” she chants, alternating between trying to push him away and trying to pull him closer, as unsure as the tide that laps against the beach. “Lucifer, what—“ But she can’t finish that sentence without his name breaking on her lips as she tumbles again into the depths.

Her breathing settles like the sea after a storm, and when she’s with it enough to look at him, he’s got his chin propped on her thigh. He’s licking the last bit of mess from the corner of his mouth and is still undulating against the closest available surface. “More?” he asks and _god_ that’s hot, even when she’s just shy of tired already.

Chloe huffs a laugh and reaches to tangle her fingers in his hair. “Take my pants off this time and get up here, you dumb shark man.” As he surges forward, eager and sharp, she holds her hand up. “Clothes intact, please.” He complies with a whine, but Chloe knows it’ll buy her an extra breath or two before he’s pressed into her and she loses all sense of time again.

**Author's Note:**

> Timeless sea breezes,  
> sea-wind of the night:  
> you come for no one;  
> if someone should wake,  
> he must be prepared  
> how to survive you.
> 
> Timeless sea breezes,  
> that for aeons have  
> blown ancient rocks,  
> you are purest space  
> coming from afar…
> 
> Oh, how a fruit-bearing  
> fig tree feels your coming  
> high up in the moonlight.
> 
> \- "Song of the Sea" by Rainer Maria Rilke


End file.
